Little Mistakes
by cookiecatt
Summary: Craig's been injured in a car accident and Stan takes it upon himself to help him through the emotional part of the recovery... Much to Craig's dismay. Separate AU from ITWWP, Stan top, switching POV


**A little warning before you read this: This contains Boy x Boy lemon. This story starts off with lemon, the real plot-plot starts in chapter two. This story is going to contain some violent and somewhat gorey(?) imagery- not sexualized or abuse- as well as strong sexual themes. Read at your own risk! Also it's Stan top! Craig's a little more... unstable, I guess? In this one. Not in a psycho way, just in a more a more-prone-to-panic-attacks sort of way. With that said, please enjoy! I'm still working on I Thought We Were Pretending, I just got the urge to start this because the idea's been buzzing around in my head ;q;**

The night it happened wasn't anything out of the realm of the norm. Clyde was throwing another party while his dad was away, So as his best friend, Craig had to be there. He was barely drinking this time, however, and rather than mingle with the others who were drunk off their ass he instead assumed the role of a wallflower.

It was almost funny, he thought; when you're intoxicated this all seems normal, scrambling around for the next drink and making out with literally anyone with a mouth, but when you're sober it all seems so childish. Maybe the raven was just growing up faster than the others like Clyde always says (or, in his eloquent words, 'you're a grandpa, dude'), but Craig didn't care in this moment. Maybe this should be his last party as a teen, they were in their last year of high school after all. His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed another noirette staring him down from across the room... almost as if asking for permission to approach. With a small tilt upwards with his head, Stan found himself beaconed over.

"S'up, Marsh?" His voice was its usual monotone, but he had to project it a little more to be heard over the god awful music Clyde had playing. Stan had a somewhat bitter smile on his face, a stark contrast to his usual warm facade. Craig wasn't sure why, but it sort of made him more approachable.

"Nothing much, dude. I'm surprised you're not doing a keg stand or some shit." His bitter smile became more teasing, striking a sneer from Craig.

"I'm surprised you're not drunk off your ass and sucking face with Testaburger," he replied sharply. He didn't hate Stan- that title was given solely to Cartman- but he and the noirette in question tended to butt heads quite often. This time in particular, however, he got the immediate sense that he went too far as Stan's strikingly blue eyes darken somewhat.

"I'm trying to stop drinking, and I broke up with Wendy for what I hope is the last time." His voice was deathly serious to the point that Craig had to suppress a shutter, but he quickly kept to his cold demeanor.

"... Both of which sound like good ideas." This seems to perk Stan's interest as he casually leaned against the wall, now facing the raven with half-lidded eyes. He never acts like this, much less at parties, so he's probably starting to go goth again or something.

"Why, you got a crush or something?" Craig merely rolled his eyes. Of course the noirette would go there.

"Don't flatter yourself, Marsh." He peered at Stan's face out of the corner of his eyes and noticed the immediate shock.

"... Dude, I mean on Wendy. Are you into dudes?" Shit. Another reason to lay off the alcohol, even a little of it fucks up your reasoning. Nobody in school besides Kenny and Clyde knew that Craig was gay- Clyde because he's his best friend, Kenny because that's who helped him figure it out. Another problem with alcohol: not always having the sharpest replies.

"... Mmmyeah." Craig felt himself cringe at that admission. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath slightly before turning and grabbing Stan by the collar and pulling him close enough so only he could hear what was being said. "... You tell anyone else and you're dead, Marsh. Got it?" He watched as the noirette quickly nodded his head, still looking utterly shocked.

"I-I mean, I won't, but like... why hide it?" This question threw Craig off a little. He could use his dad as an excuse, but he didn't say anything bad about Butters or Kenny when they would date dudes- in reality, he could only label it as a pride thing. He was seen as the school 'bad boy', and as much as he wanted to not give a fuck it was hard with a ton of Freshman eyes on him at all times. Finally he just shrugged.

"It doesn't matter, just let me tell people when I'm ready." Stan let the edge of his lips tug up a little at this. Craig was getting ready to ask what the smile was about when he noticed the noirette was starting to stand closer to him than a moment ago. From this distance he could tell that Stan wasn't lying when he said he wasn't drinking- he just smelled like Old Spice and cinnamon, presumably mouth wash. Against his better judgment, the raven allowed himself to relax farther against the wall, now facing the noirette. They were about the same height, but Craig tended to slouch more often than not so he was likely a little taller; he was a lot thinner and lankier than Stan's muscular frame, however, and comparing their shoulder widths made that even more prominent.

"Your secret's safe with me, Tucker." His attitude was starting to lighten from his earlier sour mood, and the smile on his face was starting to get to Craig. He found himself aiming his gaze farther towards the wall in an attempt to hide the pink tinge to his cheeks. What the hell, since when could Marsh make him turn into a fucking school girl? Just because he was giving him the same warm grin he would give to Wendy didn't mean the raven had to give in and take it. Bringing his gaze back to Stan's ocean-blue eyes, he allowed himself to take a step closer to him.

"What about you, Marsh? You've been acting pretty friendly." Craig just hoped like hell he was right or it'd seem like he was flirting; he was extremely thankful to see the way Stan clammed up at this accusation. It only took a second before this turned into a sheepish smile... Damn Marsh and his ability to use his boyish features to his favor.

"I dunno, dude... I guess I'm just a little curious..." He tried to play off his sudden timidity with a quick sweep of his ebony locks, but Craig could see right through to the way his ears turned red as he spoke. The raven knew this was a bad idea and he was probably making a mistake in pursuing this conversation, but he kind of loved being the one in control. A smirk crept across his lips as he stepped even closer, watching Stan's features quiver and freeze up. Their short distance apart from each other seemed suspicious even to Craig, so he knew if this game were to continue that they had to switch locations. Not to mention, the raven was incredibly curious as to how far he could push Stan.

"... Wanna take this somewhere else?" His voice was emotionless as always, but his half-lidded eyes and subtle grin gave the noirette a clear indication of what he meant. He watched the panic flash across Stan's face for a moment and he smirked, assuming he was going to wuss out. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for the noirette's strong hand to suddenly grasp Craig's wrist and take off with him up the stairs. He was shocked to say the least, but his catlike curiosity got the better of him and he followed him into Clyde's room and watched as he locked the door behind them.

He was clearly nervous, but with some sort of drive behind it... Craig momentarily considered the possibility that this was some sort of bet, but he quickly shook the thought off. Stan was a total asshole, but he wasn't that bad. He was about to say something to break the sudden silence between them when he was suddenly brought closer into a short, shaky kiss. Feeling the noirette's soft, somewhat moist lips against his own chapped ones was somewhat startling, and he didn't even have time to react before Stan pulled back and gazed sheepishly at the ground... he was smiling like an idiot. He looked down to his wrists, which were still firmly in Marsh's grasp from pulling him this close. The lack of control didn't frighten Craig so much as it pissed him off. If they were going to mess around like this, he wanted to feel like he had some sort of control over Stan.

"... If you wanted to make out, you could've said so instead of kidnapping me." His lips tugged up into another smirk as he watched the noirette's blush grow. As awkward and weird as this entire situation was, he couldn't help but feel a little attracted by it all. Stan slowly released Craig's wrists and scratched the back of his head.

"Sorry, Craig... I didn't really know how to ask something like that without it sounding gay." the raven raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms at him. He wasn't one to get offended by literally anything, but it was fun pretending he was to watch people squirm.

"What part of taking a guy into a room, locking the door and kissing him isn't gay?" Stan seemed at a loss for words before a shit-eating grin appeared on his face.

"... I'd call that at least 'bi', dude." ... Was he trying to joke his way out of this? Could that even be considered a joke? ... Regardless, it wasn't his piss-poor excuse of a joke that made Craig crack a smile and let out the remnants of a chuckle.

"You look sooo proud of yourself for that one, Marsh." He couldn't wipe the grin off of his face in time before Stan's eyes suddenly lit up. He didn't smile all too often, and it seemed the noirette knew this. Before he could gloat that he'd made him laugh- sort of- Craig grabbed the younger boy's wrists and pulled him backwards onto Clyde's bed. Stan's eyes widened and he let out a small gasp as he was forced to pin the raven onto the bed.

They both stared each other in the eyes for what seemed like an hour, ocean-blue meeting a deep blue-gray, before Stan finally took the hint and pressed his lips to Craig's again. This time the raven was able to return the kiss, slowly tangling his fingers into the noirette's mane. It wasn't long before he felt the younger boy flick his tongue onto his lips, the older boy not hesitating in granting him access to his mouth. He'd done this several times with Kenny in the past months, what was the harm of doing it with Stan now?

He allowed his tongue to tangle around Stan's, pressing his tongue piercing against it a little. He usually took that out when he went to parties after he lost one when he was blacked out, but he knew he wouldn't be getting that drunk this time. He felt the man in his arms shutter slightly and he shifted his arms somewhat, clearly unsure of where to put them. Eventually he let them rest around Craig's waist, causing the raven to let out a quiet moan into the kiss. They tongue-wrestled for quite awhile before he felt himself reacting to the kiss, causing his lower body to inadvertently press against the younger boy. Stan was rock hard. Feeling the sudden need to breathe properly, the raven quickly broke the kiss.

"S-shit, Marsh," he groaned between pants, "I guess you liked it?" Another smirk tugged at his lips, but it was quickly pushed away and replaced by a short moan when Stan tentatively grinded his lower body against him a little. He quickly brought an arm in front of his face to separate their gazes, feeling thoroughly mortified but refusing to let it be seen.

"A-about as much as you did, Craig..." He could hear the smirk in Stan's voice. He was losing control of the situation yet again. He grit his teeth a little before wrapping his legs around Stan's waist and grinding back. He wasn't going down without a fight. He heard Stan let out a guttural groan before bypassing his arm and kissing him yet again. Great, now they're making out and dry-humping each other. Not how Craig thought this night would go. After a few more minutes of this act, Stan broke the kiss. He gazed down at him with a feverish look in his eye. "Fuck, dude, I need you..." Those five words caused all the panic sirens in Craig's brain to go off. Craig was, in no uncertain terms, a virgin. He sure as hell didn't think his first time would be on Clyde's bed at a party with this football-playing dumbass... but here he was, watching as Stan discarded his shirt an jacket onto the floor. He didn't say no- he didn't want to say no- but he had no idea what they were doing. He finally spoke up as Stan brought his hand to the raven's waistband.

"Wait, Marsh- this is Clyde's bed. I'm not cleaning sheets in the middle of a party." His heart was beating roughly in his chest. He hated feeling anxious like this. Stan thought on this for a moment before picking his jacket and draping it over the bed. Craig thought this over for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. As if making a mess of sheets wasn't bad enough; he'd just agreed to cum on Stan Marsh's jacket. "God." Stan looked up hesitantly to Craig, the raven simply ignoring him and dropping his pajama pants onto the ground along with his underwear. When they finally made eye-contact, Craig gave a simple command, "we're doing this from behind." Stan silently agreed, looking almost like a lost puppy. Craig was crawling to ready himself on the bed when Stan spoke up again.

"Don't we need to, like... Prepare?" The raven cringed at this notion. He knew Stan was right, but there was no way in hell he was going to let the noirette finger-fuck him, and he certainly wouldn't finger himself in front of Marsh. To top it off, he didn't have lube himself and he wasn't about to ask Clyde where he keeps his.

"Forget it, dude. I'll be fine." Another mistake. Craig took his chullo hat off as he said this, discarding it with the rest of his clothes and running his fingers through his soft- albeit a little greasy- hair. This entire encounter was a lot more awkward than it was sexy. Stan clearly didn't have it in him to argue at this point, crawling into the bed with him and settling between the older boy's knees. As Craig leaned down into the mandatory- yet completely mortifying- position, he couldn't see anything but the bedframe and the pillow placed directly under his chin; however, he soon got an indication that they were about to start when Stan's zipper came down with a quick sound.

"I-I'm gonna put it in, dude..." Stan's awkward demeanor was the only think keeping the raven from completely losing it and calling it quits. Upon being entered, Craig let out a loud hiss. Stan paused, clearly not finished pushing in. "Sh-shit dude, are you okay? Need me to stop?" His voice was genuine, and that only pissed Craig off even more.

"J-just do it, shithead!" His voice came out in a shriek. He was starting to sound like Tweek. Without hesitation, almost as if he got startled, Stan rushed the rest of the way in. The raven quickly bit down on the pillow, making more pitiful groans. He sounded like he was being murdered, and he could only pray that nobody could hear him. Once he was in to the hilt, Stan stopped to allow them both to catch their breath. The younger man's husky pants only helped to turn Craig on further, much to his embarrassment.

"Fuck, Craig, you're tight." The older man didn't bother to take his bared teeth off of Clyde's pillow, simply gripping the bedsheets with a vigor as Stan slowly began a thrust. Due to his low position, Craig's dick rubbed against Stan's jacket with every slow thrust. The feeling was able to turn the raven's screams of pain into wanton moans. Every sound that hit their ears was new to Craig. On top of his moans and Stan's raspy breathing and groaning, there was also slapping skin and creaking bedsprings- it was some sort of grotesque orchestra that made Craig wish music were playing to drown them out.

It wasn't a terribly long experience once they got past the initial 'starting' part, and it wasn't long before the consistent rubbing against his cock made him tip over the edge, coating the jacket beneath him in a wet spot of cum. His sounds were replaced with breathy whimpers as Stan thrust three or four more times before cumming uncomfortably deep inside him. Craig felt utterly dizzy when he came to his senses. He just let Stan Marsh fuck him on Clyde's bed. His deafening screams and moans were no doubt heard by everyone downstairs. He felt Stan pull out of his ass and in a panicked daze he turned to face the noirette. He'd officially lost his cool and he didn't know how to reclaim it as he looked into Stan's stunned eyes. The noirette looked Craig over from his face, down to his ass and back to his face. The raven could tell his breathing was getting too fast at this point but he didn't care.

"What the fuck are you looking at, Marsh?" He bared his teeth somewhat, feeling like a trapped animal. Stan looked fairly alarmed.

"D-dude, I think you're bleeding..." A jolt went down Craig's spine as he inspected his thighs, which were covered in a mixture of blood and semen. The combination made a sickening pink color that marked the last straw for Craig's fragile frame of mind and he quickly attempted to leave the bed; however, gravity had other plans as the pain in his ass caused him to collapse onto the ground. "Shit, Craig!" Stan seemed like he was overreacting, but Craig was too frazzled to tease him about it.

He waved the noirette's hands away as he attempted to help, scrambling a few feet away before standing up. Though he looked like a newborn giraffe, he'd at least done it on his own... This thought calmed him down ever-so-slightly as he pulled his pants and underpants back on. All his senses were telling him to escape, despite there being nothing in particular to escape from. He wasn't in any sort of control of this situation anymore. He made his way to the door as Stan made a concerned grab for his arm.

"D-dude, where're you going? You can barely walk!" The grab, though light, caused Craig to lose balance for a second. He smacked the hand away with an odd force that Craig certainly didn't mean to use, but he didn't care right now. His voice was a near growl.

"I'm going for a drive." It wasn't until now that Craig realized how strained and pitiful his voice sounded. Too much screaming. He kept walking forward towards the stairs, and his stomach dropped when he spotted Clyde ascending the steps. His expression was concerned to say the least. He knew. On that note he ignored everything and booked it to the door with his shoes. He ignored Clyde's questions, he ignored Stan's calling out that he couldn't drink after he'd been drinking, and he ignored the fact that he was barefoot and storming over to his house in the snow. His house was directly next to Clyde's, so he could see his blue Honda easily.

Getting into the driver's seat in a anxiety-ridden daze, he didn't think about where he wanted to go. He just had to go somewhere far away from that party. This thought was etched into his mind as he put the car in reverse and pulled out of his driveway. The last thing he remembered was moving a hell of a lot faster than he intended, a thunderous sound that made his entire body double up, and people. A strong pair of arms, probably Token based on the vague trace of a voice he heard, dragging him away from something. Crying, probably Clyde. The clambering of a crowd around him and, right before his vision went totally white, sirens.


End file.
